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Indian Express
18 minutes ago
- Indian Express
Milind Soman writes: Fauja Singh's life is a reminder that we run not to escape life, but to embrace it
Today, the world grieves the loss of Fauja Singh, the indomitable 'Turbaned Torpedo', who was tragically taken away from us on July 14. We have lost a legend, a man who didn't just run, but one who rewrote the meaning of movement itself. Even writing down his age, 114, feels surreal. Not because he lived that long — but because he lived that well. I have been greatly inspired by the life of Fauja Singh, especially his running tales. I had the honour of meeting him years ago at the Mumbai marathon. I remember thinking that this was someone who didn't just defy age, he made it irrelevant. No grand philosophies, no high-tech training gear. Just discipline, simplicity, and a heart that beat with purpose. Singh's death is heartbreaking, not only because we have lost a symbol of resilience, but because it was avoidable. He was killed by a person driving recklessly while he was simply crossing a road near his home. His death shines a light on a harsh truth: In India, countless pedestrians, especially the elderly, face daily dangers from unsafe roads, lack of crosswalks, and our couldn't-care-less attitude about drunken driving and hit-and-runs. Fauja defied limits all his life, only to be failed by a society that couldn't protect him. His passing must not be in vain — it must become a call to action for safer roads, stricter laws and respect for every person's life. Although my own running journey began over two decades ago, Fauja Singh reminded me that sport isn't about speed or medals — it's about spirit. He started running marathons at 89. Most people would have given up on their bodies by then. He chose to believe in his. 'Running showed me kindness and brought me back to life,' he later shared. What I admired most about Fauja was not his stamina or strength, but his spirit. He began running to cope with grief, after losing his wife and son. Most of us would break under that weight. He chose to move, one step at a time, until that movement became something the world noticed. His journey culminated in the 2011 Toronto Marathon, where he became the first centenarian to finish a full marathon. His life was more than a testament to physical endurance. It spoke of resilience. It reminded me, and everyone who watched his turban bob along the route, that it is never too late to start exploring anything that you love and to write your own second act. His unwavering discipline — eschewing alcohol, tobacco, and indulgent foods — earned him not just longevity, but vitality. In the world of fitness, we tend to idolise young achievers bursting with speed and promise, but Fauja taught us to revere the ancient spark in the soul of an elder who, in defying his own mortality, inspired youth worldwide. He even carried the Olympic torch for London 2012. That's what running is. Not escape, not exertion — but expression. A meditation. And Fauja showed us how it could heal. Running teaches you everything you need to know — about patience, resilience, joy, and pain. With every mile he ran, Fauja reminded us that age is not a limitation; the mind is. What's heartbreaking is how, in India, running becomes an act of bravery. Every runner who ties their shoes and steps out the door — especially women, elders, and those without access to private clubs — is quietly pushing back against fear, neglect, and indifference. India has the spirit for running. But to truly become a country that welcomes runners, it needs more than marathons. It needs safer streets, respectful public spaces and a cultural shift that sees runners not as obstacles on the road — but as inspiring people who deserve to move freely and safely. There's something truly sacred about long-distance running. What makes it special is not just the distance — it's the journey inward. With every kilometre, you're not just moving forward — you're also peeling back layers of fear, doubt, and fatigue. It's not about outrunning others; it's about discovering the strength you didn't know you had. Would I recommend long distance running? Absolutely. Not just as a sport, but as a way to know yourself, as a way to happiness and contentment. Fauja Singh is a humbling reminder that we run not to escape life, but to embrace it. He raced the clock itself and, for a while, beat it. He became an icon for generations across the world. I hope we remember him not just for his races, but for the grace with which he lived. For the simplicity of his meals, the discipline of his days, the gratitude in his words. He has passed on to us a legacy not measured in kilometres, but in courage. We must carry forward that torch, by running our own races — towards self belief, discipline, purpose. The writer is a long-distance runner, actor and model
NDTV
15 hours ago
- Sport
- NDTV
Fauja Singh's Last Wish Was To Spend Rest Of His Life In Britain
New Delhi/Jalandhar: World's oldest marathon runner Fauja Singh wanted to spend the rest of his life in Britain. His last wish could not be fulfilled. Fauja Singh, who had come to Punjab in 2015 for a sports event, had spoken to PTI Bhasha in an exclusive conversation at his house in Beas. "Here (Punjab), there are bad elements everywhere. Police cannot do anything. No one knows when they will stab, rob and hit someone and run away. This is not the case in London. That is why I want to spend my last time there," Singh had then said. The 114-year-old was proven right when he went for a walk on the Jalandhar-Pathankot highway in his village Monday afternoon and died in a horrific road accident. A decade ago, Fauja asserted his youthfulness. "I can never accept that I am old. I can walk faster and farther than you. As far as the last moments are concerned, the most suitable place is Britain." Fauja Singh expressed regret for never being able to win any medals for India. Dressed in his house wearing a Pathani kurta and pyjama, Fauja Singh had said during the interview, "I will always regret that whenever I ran, and whatever medals I won, not even one of them was for India. People kept calling me a British runner. I did not like this. But what can I do? I have become a British citizen." Showing his medals with a sigh, Fauja said, "I wish I could win a medal for my country. I have won all these, but it is of no use to me because not a single medal is for India." The passion for running flowed like blood in his veins. "Until I run, I don't feel healthy." In 2015, Fauja, who was 104 years old at the time, revealed the secret of his health. "I am healthy and completely fit, the main reason for this is - pinni and Dil-i Khushi (contentment). I am always happy and eat Punjabi 'pinni' every day." "After eating pinni, I drink a glass of lukewarm water. I drink a glass of milk before sleep at night, and I make sure to eat curd in every season. Wherever I live, here (India) or there (Britain), I eat these things and am always happy. This is the biggest secret of my health," he said. Fauja Singh, who took up running in his early eighties, said, "I cannot live even a day without Pinni. I need it every day. But now Punjab has joined the race of modernity, and pinni, for which it is most famous, is not available here." The veteran marathoner added, "A better pinni is found in England. It is a cold country. People of Punjab living there also like pinni. It is easily digested." He also gave fitness advice to the correspondent, saying, "Kaaka! If you also want to stay fit, then eat pinni every day." 'Pinni' is a very popular Punjabi sweet which is made from ghee, wheat flour, gum and dry fruits. Singh, who retired from running in 2012 after running a half marathon in Hong Kong, said, "After turning 100, they don't allow you to run the marathon. Many times, while running, there is a fear of falling." Explaining the reason behind being attracted to running in his eighties, Fauja Singh said, "About 22 years ago, my elder son died in a road accident. I was so sad, almost lifeless. Meanwhile, my daughter took me to London with her. One of my sons also lives there." Fauja Singh, who was going to turn 104 in April, said, "Amrik Singh Dhillon, a resident of Bathinda living in London, inspired me to run for charity for the first time. After this, I ran once, and never stopped." He added, "After my son's death, I went into depression. I used to sit in the park there. Around that time, I met Amrik, and he asked me to run."
Indian Express
18 hours ago
- General
- Indian Express
Fauja Singh: Granddad who didn't ‘feel like dying'
Written by Khushwant Singh I always knew I'd be asked to write Fauja Singh's obituary one day, but I believed that day was still far away. Never did I imagine that a man who single-handedly redefined the meaning of living with dignity would meet such a tragic end on the same highway that had once claimed one of his sons' lives. The highway had been a backdrop to his life's most crucial experiences: It had set in motion his running career as he sought solace after his son's death. It became the place where his own was taken away, prematurely, as it feels. True to his name — Fauja, meaning 'army' and Singh, meaning 'lion'– Fauja Singh was an extraordinary man. I often told people he was the romanticised prototype of a Sikh and a peasant, embodying sabr (patience), courage, wit, resilience, and above all, decency. He embodied the original meaning of the word Sikh: A seeker. On this foundation, he built his kirdar (character), becoming a global symbol of human resilience and inspiration, especially when he completed the Toronto Waterfront Marathon in 2011 at the age of 100. The first time I met him was in 2005 in the UK, while I was writing Sikhs Unlimited: A Travelogue from Delhi to Los Angeles via London (Rupa & Co.), a book that chronicled the lives of some extraordinary Sikhs in the UK and the US. Fauja had shot into the limelight after the sportswear company Adidas signed him for their 'Running 2004' campaign, and his billboards appeared all over the UK. It's a separate story altogether that Fauja could never quite pronounce the brand name and always referred to it as 'kompany'. It was only after they signed him that Adidas realised how difficult it was to get him to say 'Adidas' correctly for the advertisement. Nor did they know that Fauja told me he preferred the 'sher waley jutey (the pair with the feline on them)' over 'kompany waley jutey'. He had asked me to meet him at a gurdwara in Seven Kings, Ilford. He had moved in with his eldest son after the tragic death of his middle son. What followed was a friendship that lasted two decades. He looked frail at that first meeting, very unlike a marathon runner. He was wearing a blue turban, had a flowing beard, and was dressed in a blue suit. However, the giveaways were the matching tie, which had marathon runners printed on it, and the sports shoes, which had 'Fauja' and 'Singh' inscribed on them. After introducing me to some fellow devotees as 'Likhari India toe aaya (the writer who has come from India)', he told me that he could either sleep or walk, and the interview would have to be done while walking. 'We will walk eight to 10 miles, I have to pick up my shoes from the cobbler, and then we'll have tea at the Singh Sabha Gurdwara,' he said. 'Yes, Babaji,' I replied, and off we went. About a kilometre into the interview, I realised I would need to find someone else to provide accurate information. For Fauja, everything had happened paroo, meaning 'some time back'. Thank God for Harmander Singh, his coach, from whom I eventually got the necessary details. Harmander told me how he had to virtually get Fauja out of his suit and into a vest and track pants to make him running ready. Once set, though, there was no looking back. London, New York, Toronto, Nairobi, Lahore, name a city, he conquered them all. Mumbai, twice, where he was the star attraction both times. Like Adidas, he could never pronounce Mumbai and called it Bumba. His short biography in Sikhs Unlimited soon turned into a full-fledged book. Titled Turbaned Tornado: The Oldest Marathon Runner Fauja Singh, it was released at the House of Lords, London, in July 2011. During the 100-odd kilometres I walked alongside him through the streets of London for both books, I was finally able to piece together his life. He was born in Bias Pind, in Jalandhar district, on April 1, 1911, to Mehr Singh and Bhago Kaur. Ironically, the legs on which he clocked endless miles of running were spindly, and his friends used to call him Danda. He was adopted by his aunt, Rai Kaur, and was nicknamed Gallari (talkative), a tag he carried till his last breath. Fauja Singh could entertain you endlessly with his stories and wit, albeit frequently punctuated with the choicest of Punjabi expletives. I can hear his favourite one as I write this. But Fauja was not all talk. He was an indefatigable farmer. Village folklore has it that the oxen would get tired, but Fauja wouldn't. This relentless work ethic eventually found expression on the track. Yet, what many don't know is how deeply charitable Fauja was. He donated his entire endorsement fee from Adidas to a UK-based charity called Bliss. During the 2016 Mumbai Marathon, Nestlé agreed with his request to send its endorsement money directly to the Pingalwara Trust in Amritsar. During a book tour to Australia in 2013, he was invited by many gurdwaras and showered with dollars. He would simply pick up the dollars and put them in the golak, and I would watch in awe, admiring the man that he was. Fauja was sharp and observant. At the celebrity chef cookout, part of the Mumbai Marathon carnival, he was paired with Gul Panag. They had to cook pasta. When Gul was trying to explain what pasta was, he surprised her by asking, 'Bal waala (fusilli) je, ke nali waala (penne)?' The last time I met him was in December 2024 at his home in Bias Pind, from where I had started the fourth day of my People's Walk Against Drugs, and he had walked half a kilometre in solidarity. But even before that, I had asked him, 'Do you fear death?' 'Yes,' he admitted. 'Hunn tey mela laggya, mehmaan 'Granddad, Granddad' karde ne. Maran da ji nahi karda (Now that it feels like a fair, with everyone calling me Granddad. I don't feel like dying),' he said in chaste Punjabi. Bye, Granddad. And as one of your admirers wrote on social media, at 114, you are still not out. Life cheated on you. The writer, former state information commissioner of Punjab, wrote Turbaned Tornado: The Oldest Marathon Runner Fauja Singh, the biography of the runner
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Business Standard
a day ago
- Sport
- Business Standard
Fauja Singh, centenarian runner who inspired millions, dies at 114
The saying 'It's never too late to start over' finds its most extraordinary embodiment in the life of Fauja Singh. The world-renowned centenarian marathoner, who didn't lace up his running shoes until the age of 89, passed away on Monday night at 114. His death was sudden and tragic, he was struck by an unidentified vehicle while out on a walk in his hometown, Beas Pind in Jalandhar. Despite his age, the abruptness of his passing left many heartbroken. Having spent much of his running career in the UK, Singh returned to his roots in India about three years ago after retiring. According to his biographer, Khushwant Singh, "We used to caution him about the dangers of running in India because of reckless driving. Sadly, that's exactly how his journey ended." The journey that began through healing Fauja's path to greatness wasn't born of ambition but healing. After the loss of his youngest son in the 1990s, following the earlier deaths of his wife and daughter, he emigrated to the UK. In Essex, he discovered a running club, which became his refuge and later, his passion. 'Back in the village, he would sit for hours at the cremation ground. That's when his family decided he should move to the UK,' Khushwant said. Running began as a way to escape grief but grew into a purpose. Fauja would go on to participate in prestigious marathons, London, New York, Hong Kong, clocking impressive times for someone not only over 90, but born with weak legs. In 2012, he was a torchbearer at the London Olympics and was honoured by Queen Elizabeth II for his contributions to sport and charity. 'Before meeting the Queen, we had to keep telling him not to hug her like he would greet children,' Khushwant laughed. Ontario Masters Association Invitational Meet: World records broken by Fauja Singh 100m - 23.40 seconds (previous 29.83) 200m - 52.23 seconds (previous 77.59 seconds) 400m - 2:13.48 (previous 3:41.00) 800m - 5:32.18 (no previous record) 1,500m - 11:27.00 (previous 16:46.00) Mile - 11:53.45 (no previous record) 3,000m - 24:52.47 (no previous record) 5,000m - 49:57.39 (no previous record) Despite his fame, Fauja remained grounded. Illiterate but able to recognize numbers as visual patterns, he had no interest in wealth. Every penny he earned through running went to charity. Even unsolicited donations from admirers were quickly dropped into Gurudwara boxes. A true Punjabi at heart, he loved pinnis and the occasional McDonald's strawberry shake, but his discipline as a runner never wavered. He trained diligently and lived simply. One of his most iconic achievements came in 2011 when he turned 100. At an invitational meet in Toronto, he set several records for his age group. Unfortunately, Guinness World Records didn't recognize them due to the lack of a birth certificate, something that never bothered him. 'He was just happy with the attention,' Khushwant said. 'When I once asked if he feared death, he replied, 'Of course, the fun is just beginning.'' Even well past his prime, Fauja remained active, joining a run against drug addiction just two years ago. His name, which means 'soldier,' perfectly suited his approach to life. He faced his trials with unwavering strength and trust in humanity. 'He never worried about travel or logistics,' said Khushwant. 'He believed, 'The community will take care of me.''
Indian Express
a day ago
- General
- Indian Express
Run, Fauja, Run: The man who never stopped running
At 114, Fauja Singh died too soon. For a man who led a remarkable life, the end was abrupt, almost staccato – hit by an unidentified vehicle while crossing the road. Fauja Singh was 100 when he became 'the oldest man to run a marathon' – clocking 8 hours and 11 minutes at the Toronto Marathon in 2011. Some years earlier, when he was a sprightly 95, and soon after he had finished a marathon, Fauja Singh, resplendent in a big, black turban paired with a matching satin shirt, had told a group of journalists gathered around him in Chandigarh: 'Zindagi inni sohni hai ki maran nu te jee hi nahin karda (Life is so beautiful that I just don't feel like dying).' His eyes twinkled and his face creased into a wide smile. He ran some more, before he finally hung up his boots in 2013, when he turned 102. But Fauja Singh never gave up on life – or his shoes. He collected at least 100 pairs and much later in life, ditched his kurta-pyjama for joggers and fancy suits. 'I love clothes too,' he told The Indian Express that afternoon in Chandigarh, volunteering to open his suitcase to display his collection. Chandigarh-based writer Khushwant Singh, who wrote a 2011 biography of the marathoner, recalls that when he first met him in 2005, Fauja was wearing an electric blue suit, a tie that read 'Marathoner' and a pair of shoes with 'Fauja' on one and 'Singh' on the other. If Fauja first ran, it was to escape a personal tragedy. Villagers in his Beas village in Jalandhar district say Fauja was building a dhaba for his son Kuldeep when the roof collapsed and killed the youngster, the fifth of his six children. That was in August 1994, just two years after his wife, Gian Kaur, died. Devastated, Fauja lost all will to live. His youngest son Harvinder Singh remembers seeing him mourning for hours at the cremation ground. That's when Sukhjinder, the eldest of his sons who lived in England, took him along. In London, he went on long walks. 'I had nothing to do at home. My son told me to take a bus to the local gurdwara, but I decided to walk instead,' he would recount. A chance encounter with Harmander Singh, a marathon coach who met Fauja at a neighbourhood park just six months earlier, would lead to the 89-year-old running his first marathon in April 2000, at age 89. He ran 6 hours, 54 minutes to finish the 26-mile (41-km) run. And soon, he was famous. Adidas appointed him as its brand ambassador and his billboards appeared across London. He was also a torchbearer for the 2012 London Olympics. Khushwant Singh says Fauja was once invited by Queen Elizabeth II, a meeting for which he was briefed extensively for two days. 'They told him, 'Don't try to hug her, just shake her hand',' he says. 'The best part was the affection that came my way,' Fauja told The Indian Express in an earlier interview. 'Even the memsahibs would call me grandad.' Soon, Fauja was a jet-setting marathoner, greeted aboard flights with public announcements. A British Airways crew even printed 'World traveller, centurion marathoner' on his boarding pass, and Fauja beamed. In 2011, after running nine full marathons in 11 years, he ran the London Marathon, his last when he clocked 7 hours, 49 minutes and 21 seconds. He later transitioned to the shorter 10-km category in marathons. At the 2013 Mumbai Marathon, Fauja rubbed shoulders with actors John Abraham and Gul Panag, jogging with one and cooking pasta with the other. When a reporter asked Abraham how it felt to be with Fauja, he replied: 'Ask me how it feels to be with Fauja Singh ji.' The same year, Fauja ran in the 10-km category in the Hong Kong marathon – his last international run. Khushwant Singh, who spent two years writing Fauja's 2011 biography Turbaned Tornado, recalls how he interviewed the marathoner on foot in East London: 'He said, 'I can either walk or sleep.' So walk we did'. Khushwant says Fauja's accomplishment as the 'oldest marathoner' was not recognised by the Guinness World Records because he did not have a birth certificate to prove his age. Fauja, he says, had a British passport that showed his date of birth as April 1, 1911, while a letter from Indian government officials stated that birth records were not maintained in 1911. Khushwant, who once travelled with Fauja to Australia, recalls how he never lost his humility or his large heart, not even when fans from the expat Sikh community thrust dollars into his palm at gurdwaras, 'On the way back, he would quietly put all the money into the gurdwara's gullak,' he says. Khushwant says that when Nestlé asked for Fauja's address for a sponsorship cheque, he gave the name of an Amritsar-based charity organisation. Back home in Punjab, Fauja was courted by politicians, yet was never dazzled by authority. In 2011, in a meeting with then CM Amarinder Singh, he quipped, 'Bibi Bhattal (former CM Rajinder Kaur Bhattal and Amarinder's rival) speech badi takri dendi hai (Bhattal gives very powerful speeches).' How Amarinder took the quip isn't part of the records. Around three years ago, Fauja finally moved back from London to his home in Beas, where he lived with his youngest son Harvinder's family. 'He never sat still,' says Bhanjit Kaur, Fauja's daughter-in-law in Beas village. 'From room to courtyard to street, he was always on the move.' Once awake, he wouldn't stop. He would start his day with a desi pinni (a ladoo made with flaxseed or dal and dry fruits), followed by a light brunch of chapati and a sabzi. He loved ghiya (bottle gourd), tinda (apple gourd), and was 'crazy about mangoes. Even till the end, he would eat a kilo a day,' smiles Bhanjit. The trees in the family compound bore fruits from the seeds he once planted. At 3 pm, he would have a cup of tea, after which he walked for hours through the village. 'Jis din reh gaya, ussi din baith jaunga (The day I skip my walk is the day I give up),' he told The Indian Express once. On July 14, too, he was walking. He was crossing the highway to visit a small roadside eatery named after his late son, Kuldeep Singh, when an unidentified vehicle struck him down.
